Classic Poem

ELEGY III.

Bright o'er the green hills rose the morning ray,
The woodlark's song resounded on the plain;
Fair Nature felt the warm embrace of day,
And smil'd through all her animated reign.

When young Delight, of Hope and Fancy born,
His head on tufted wild thyme half-reclin'd,
Caught the gay colours of the orient morn,
And thence of life this picture vain design'd:

" O born to thoughts, to pleasures more sublime
Than beings of inferior nature prove!
To triumph in the golden hours of Time,
And feel the charms of Fancy and of Love!

" High-favour'd man! for him unfolding fair
In orient light this native landscape smiles;
For him sweet Hope disarms the hand of Care,
Exalts his pleasures, and his grief beguiles.

" Blows not a blossom on the breast of Spring,
Breathes not a gale along the bending mead,
Trills not a songster of the soaring wing,
But fragrance, health, and melody succeed,

" O let me still with simple Nature live,
My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay,
Enjoy the blessings that she meant to give,
And calmly waste my inoffensive day!

" No titled name, no envy-teasing dome,
No glittering wealth my tutor'd wishes crave;
So Health and Peace be near my humble home,
A cool stream murmur, and a green tree wave.

" So may the sweet Enterpe not disdain
At Eve's chaste hour her silver lyre to bring;
The muse of pity wake her soothing strain,
And tune to sympathy the trembling string.

" Thus glide the pensive moments, o'er the vale
While floating shades of dusky night descend:
Not left untold the lover's tender tale,
Nor unenjoy'd the heart-enlarging friend.

" To love and friendship flow the social bowl!
To attic wit and elegance of mind;
To all the native beauties of the soul,
The simple charms of truth, and sense refin'd.

" Then to explore whatever ancient sage
Studious from Nature's early volume drew,
To chase sweet Fiction through her golden age,
And mark how fair the sun-flower, Science, blew!

" Haply to catch some spark of eastern fire,
Hesperian fancy, or Aonian ease;
Some melting note from Sappho's tender lyre,
Some strain that Love and Phaebus taught to please.

" When waves the grey light o'er the mountain head,
Then let me meet the morn's first beauteous ray:
Carelessly wander from my silvan shed,
And catch the sweet breath of the rising day.

" Nor seldom, loitering as I muse along,
Mark from what flower the breeze its sweetness bore;
Or listen to the labour-soothing song
Of bees that range the thy my uplands o'er.

" Slow let me climb the mountain's airy brow;
The green height gain'd, in museful rapture lie;
Sleep to the murmur of the woods below,
Or look on Nature with a lover's eye.

" Delightful hours! O, thus for ever flow;
Led by fair Fancy round the varied year:
So shall my breast with native raptures glow,
Nor feel one pang from folly, pride, or fear.

" Firm be my heart to Nature and to Truth,
Nor vainly wander from their dictates sage:
So Joy shall triumph on the brows of youth,
So Hope shall smooth the dreary paths of age."